


The Ashes In My Wake

by In_love_with_writing002



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 80 years of pining, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Eskel likes fire, Eskel recieves love and affection, Hurt/Comfort, I Can fit in the tags, Longing, M/M, Pining, Sibling Feelings, Unrequited Love, Yearning, i wonder now many synonyms of Pining, that’s all this fic is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_writing002/pseuds/In_love_with_writing002
Summary: Every year, Eskel thinks"This is going to be the one."And Every year, Eskel is wrong.And his patience is wearing thinner by the day.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 22
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr but I decided to post it here and subject everyone else to the feelings I have about these two.
> 
> EDIT: This fic Originally had a different chapter one, and was called "Simple Comforts." Since them, I've done some remodelling to better suit the story. Sorry for any confusion, and I hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought there was only going to be one chapter of this but uh,
> 
> I kept having more thoughts.

Every year, Eskel thinks:  _ this is going to be the one.  _ The one where it finally stops. The year he gets to stop pretending for everyone else’s sake. 

He’s  _ tired _ of the mask he wears, he’s sick of every lie he tells himself, exhausted every time he goes down for Breakfast in the main hall, can’t even look properly at Geralt when he sits beside him, when he wants him to be across the table, wants to look into his eyes each morning even earlier, wants to be able to see him beside him in the big bed he has in his room, wants to watch Geralt’s eyes flicker open for the first time in the morning and ask, gently,

“How’d you sleep?”

He just wants everything to crash down around him, the walls he crafted around his heart shattering like glass, no longer needing the extra defense to guard him against every surge of treacherous emotion when Geralt does something endearing that he  _ can’t fucking mention. _

He wants to say all the things they don’t say to each other— he wants to tell Geralt about how he feels when his nose crinkles up in the times he grins too wide, wants to tell him about the two strands of hair that fall out of his tie that he has to tuck behind his ear when it’s shaved short, how he wants to be the one to tuck them there, or put his ponytail up better so it doesn’t fall at all.

And he’s so tired, at the end of the year when he makes the trek home, and he’s ready to relax,  _ really  _ relax, after eighty years, he’s ready to collapse in tiredly into someone else’s welcoming embrace, to be held, to be loved, for the first time in a lifetime.

And so he gets to the keep, anticipation swirling in his gut, of the potential for it to happen, for  _ this _ to be  _ their _ year.

And Geralt greets him with the same smile as he always does, the one that says “It’s good to see you made it home in one piece,” the one that says “I’m happy to see you again,” the one that means “Try again next time,”

And Eskel takes a deep, shuddering breath in, embracing him for the first time after three seasons—

And when he steps out of it, Eskel smiles back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I think this fic is going to have 5 chapters, maybe 6 if I add in an epilogue. I promise this chapter has a lot of comfort in it, some real, genuine comfort for our boy.

“Eskel, Geralt’s here.” Eskel feels the familiar swirl of hope in his chest with the nonchalance of Lambert’s voice, it means Geralt is home uninjured, has arrived safe and sound like he has for most winters in a row.

He leaves his room and follows after Lambert through the halls, thinking about how it might be this time that Eskel doesn’t have to keep waiting.

“ _ Ah! _ Who might this be, Geralt? One of your other friends?”

Eskel feels his heart skip a beat. The smile fades from his eyes, he’s no longer happy Geralt is home. He wants to go into his room and hibernate in his sudden, overwhelming heartbreak for the rest of winter, and maybe a while after that. But he’s down here already, he can’t flee from this.

“This is Eskel,” Geralt says casually, his voice light. He’s no doubt pleased with the guest he’s brought, excited to introduce his new friend to his old ones. “And Eskel, this is Jaskier.” Eskel finally lets his eyes focus enough to look at the offending man. He’s wearing a striking green outfit, it brightens his blue eyes, gold and red accents making the colors pop even more. 

Eskel wants to burn it.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Jaskier says, smiling warmly. Eske fixes him with the least fuming expression he can muster, his smile entirely fake as he grabs Jaskier back. By the way his eyes flicker with mild concern, he doesn’t think he was successful.

—

Jaskier is a daily assault on Eskel’s senses, and every day he spends with Jaskier helping him in the stables he hates him just a little more.

The worst part of it is that Jaskier is a  _ delight. _ He makes the Witchers laugh like they haven’t in years at dumb jokes, and raunchy songs, and increasingly ridiculous doublets until he caves and wears heavier clothing better suited for the winter.

It’s painfully obvious, as well, that he’s in love with Geralt.

They’ve been traveling together for twenty years, and it’s the first time he’s brought Jaskier home. Jaskier says he’s happy to be here, that Oxenfurt was dull and lectures are no fun when all he wants to do in Winter is sleep and eat and be lazy, which they certainly do a lot of in Kaer Morhen. But Eskel Can see it, recognizes his own expressions on someone else’s face, when Geralt makes a stupid joke and Jaskier smiles at him like he hung the stars.

And there’s no way he can compete with Jaskier.

Jaskier is all the things Eskel wants to be— he’s smart, and funny, and sociable, and talented, and well-educated, and most of all, attractive. Clean.

Unscarred.

Eskel rubs at his cheek, self conscious for the first time in a  _ while. _

“Does that bother you?” The question is innocent enough when Jaskier asks. “Does it  _ tug _ or anything?”

Eskel stops rubbing, moving his hand away. “Not a lot.”

They’re in the barn, Eskel brushing down the horses while Jaskier takes care of the goats. It’s the only time Eskel has been alone with Jaskier, nobody else around. It’s when Eskel tends to stew in his unburied insecurities the most, watching Jaskier work and wishing he could be a little more like him so Geralt might love him enough.

So Geralt might love him at all.

“I must admit I’m curious about the story behind it,” Jaskier confesses. “I’m itching to compose a new song. Autumn was entirely too unremarkable.”

Eskel chuckles, just a little. “It’s not really a ballad-worthy story. Not much of a good one, at least.” He goes back to brushing when Scorpion nickers in annoyance. Needy horse. He understands him.

“That’s what Geralt says every time I write something new,” Jaskier hums. Eskel grits his teeth and tries to suppress the urge to yell. “He doesn’t understand that he’s a  _ hero, _ to those people he saves.”

“Hm,” Eskel says, fingers itching to form  _ Igni _ . He doesn’t get angry often. But the  _ jealousy _ he has of Jaskier, how much attention Jaskier receives that Eskel has been waiting  _ eighty years _ for a scrap of—

“Has he always been so humble?”

“Yes,” Eskel snaps in response. He immediately regrets it.

“You’re shaking,” Jaksier says.

It’s not what Eskel expects, really. He knows he sounds upset. He knows he must look angry, and sad, and hunched in on himself. He desperately hopes Jaskier will leave it at that, because one more assault on his psyche in this  _ gods damned winter with Geralt’s bard— _

“Are you o-“

Eskel throws the brush down, and storms out of the barn without another word. He’ll finish with the animals later.

—

Eskel is sitting on wet grass when footsteps creep up behind him.

“You’ve melted the snow here,” Jaskier says. Guilt chokes him like a vice. Jaskier was just checking on him, back in the barn. Eskel was acting childish, shouldn’t have run out, should’ve been patient and calm like he was supposed to be. He’s _so_ _sick_ of being patient.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” Eskel says. “And worrying you.”

“It’s forgiven,” Jaskier says. “I recognized what was happening with you and pushed you into it,” he admits. Eskel narrows his eyes in confusion.

“What?”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Eskel stops breathing.

“Geralt. I can tell.”

There’s silence for a few moments, moments of Eskel processing Jaskier’s words. What was he supposed to say? The truth?

“I don’t want to get between you two,” Eskel says instead, neither a confirmation or denial.

“There’s nothing to get between, Eskel,” Jaskier sighs. “Much as I wish there was. Geralt hasn’t shown any interest in me the entire twenty years I’ve known him.”

Eskel wants to laugh. Twenty. He knows it’s half of Jaskier’s lifetime, knows he’s about to turn fourty, but Jaskier’s lived less than half as long as Eskel has— he would have been in his sixties when Jaskier was  _ born _ , would have already been pining after Geralt for as long as Jaskier is old now.

But really, he’s confused.

“But he brought you here. You have to know how rare it is for a human to be here.”

“Geralt gave me the talk on the way here, you can save it.”

Eskel is almost taken aback by the chastising.

“I’m here because they wouldn’t take me in Aidern. I had nowhere to go. I pressed Geralt into it anyway, I didn’t want to die when he had a perfectly fine place where I could stay.”

“How’d you manage to get him to agree?”

“Geralt has a hero complex, Eskel. Once I told him he was my last resort? It really wasn't hard.”

Eskel does laugh at that. Then his throat starts to close, and his eyes burn, and he puts his hands to his face to cry.

“How…” Jaskier starts to speak, but Eskel ignores him in favor of his emotions, dragging his knees to his chest and sobbing freely. It’s still quiet, but it’s enough for Jaskier to move closer, wrap his arms around him and hold him until he doesn’t feel so broken. “How long has it been?” Jaskier asks. “Be honest.”

“Eighty-four years,” Eskel says through a shuddering breath. “Since training.”

Jaskier whistles. “And he’s never… does he even know?”

“I don’t see how he couldn’t,” Eskel mutters, pressing his face into Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’ve told him, and I’ve shown it, and I-“ Eskel’s voice cracks and he sighs instead.

“When was the last time you told him?”

“Eighty years ago,” Eskel says. “And he said he loves me too, back then.”

Jaskier starts running his hand through Eskel’s hair, a soothing gesture that makes him want to close his eyes and fall asleep. It reminds him of how he comforts Lambert— talking to him and holding him until he calms down. “And what happened?” Jaskier asks, bringing Eskel’s attention back to the conversation.

“He said it wasn’t safe to be together, on the path,” Eskel explains. “He said we could only be together in winters.”

“I’m guessing he hasn’t done that?”

“Not yet,” Eskel mumbles. “I’ve been waiting for… for almost a century, and I’ve gotten nothing but hugs and handshakes— friendly smiles.”

“Ouch,” Jaskier sighs. “You’ve really been waiting so long?”

Eskel nods.

“You must be extremely patient.”

Eskel can feel the grass under his feet burn. “Of course.”

Jaskier snorts a laugh, tilting his head against Eskel’s. “How about we go back to the keep, hm?” He suggests. “Take your mind off of things, get inside and do something else. Does that sound alright?”

It’s so reminiscent of something Eskel would do for Lambert that it makes his chest ache. He should go and find Lambert— pester him for a bit. He’ll see right through him for sure, but Lambert will indulge in his distraction, at least. “Yeah,” Eskel says. “Thank you for your help. I know I’m mostly a stranger-“

“Oh, stop with that,” Jaskier huffs. “I’m not going to let you take solace in my brotherly affection and dust it off as an accident.”

Eskel smiles when Jaskier’s hand in his hair stops stroking, ruffles it instead.

“We’ve bonded, and now you’re stuck with me.” To sink it in, Jaskier plants a kiss on Eskel’s head. He feels impossibly small under this human, and affection blooms wild in his chest. He reaches out for him one final time, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier has to lay back to recieve it, but Eskel adjusts easily.

“Thank you,” Eskel says, and means it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
